Post Its
by Mrs.HarryPotter12
Summary: Luna and Neville don't usually see each other during the day, so they communicate by PostIt notes. Odd conversations to follow... REPOST
1. Neville

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or Post-It© notes, the company Post-It notes (although I have several multicolored packs here at home. They just make any day brighter.) All the credit for this wonderful world goes to the genius of a woman JK Rowling.

This is a repost by me, Missie, who orginally wrote the story. This is my favorite, and after the idea of a sequel came up, I wanted to have this here. Ciao.

Every day she leaves me a Post-It.

You know - one of those Muggle sticky things that come in all those weird colors and shapes? She loves them. There is always one on the mirror, one on the shower nozzle, one on the refrigerator... you get the idea. Her job at _The Quibbler_ makes it impossible for me to see her in the morning and my job at the Ministry makes it impossible to see her at night, so we use Post-Its to say what we can't during the day. This is a tradition that we started almost three years ago, and she goes all out when it comes to the morning Post-Its.

We've been dating since her last year. At Dumbledore's insistence, half of my class stayed back to teach in the safety of the castle while Voldemort ran wild outside. Yes, I said his name. He's really dead now, we're positive. Halfway through the year, Voldemort managed to break into the castle to get Harry. Lucky for us, though, Harry was ready. Harry taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione taught Arithmancy, Ron helped Madam Hooch with the Quidditch games and I helped Professor Sprout in Herbology. We got jobs outside the castle after Voldemort's fall: Harry and Ron as professional Quidditch players, Hermione as an Unspeakable and I as an Auror. How I ever passed is beyond me.

Anyway, about Luna...

We dated on and off for a year and a half before I asked her to move in with me. It's hard to believe that was two years ago, but when you look around, it's obvious. We didn't immediately rush into marriage like Ron and Hermione, who are on their fourth child; or start dating fresh out of school like Harry and Ginny, who got married two years ago and have a little one and another on the way. Nope; Luna and I took it slow.

I've never had much luck with relationships. Luna is the first woman who didn't immediately dismiss me as a klutz or an _'I only want to be friends'_ guy. She used to hang around after classes ended, and while I'd be cleaning up she would go on about her trips to Scandinavia to find those Crumpled Hornbacks, whatever those things were. After the Final Battle, however, she withdrew from everyone, and it was then that I realized that I missed having her around, no matter how annoying she could get sometimes.

Our first kiss was during her last day at Hogwarts. I had followed her out to the lake. She had just been standing there, staring out over the water. I had walked up next to her, and without warning, she turned to face me and kissed me. I had been so dumbstruck that it didn't fully register until she had broken it off. I remember how she had looked up at me, confused. Cautiously, I then reached for her hand and she started smiling. I'd never seen her so happy.

My alarm clock has gone off for the second time this evening and I'm still tired. I didn't get much sleep last night - or this morning; whatever you want to call it - and Luna still isn't home. Usually, we have a good fifteen minutes together before my alarm goes off the first time. I guess she probably took overtime.

Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed and sulk into the bathroom to shower. I pull the purple Post-It off the mirror and scanned it.

Sorry, had to take the late shift, but I get all day tomorrow off. See you then.

Love, Luna

She's signed it with this little flounce she always uses; it's like a curved line with a hole in it. I've watched her do it a million times, but I've never figured out how she makes it look like that. When I open the shower door, I find another one, this time in pink.

I have to write an article on the Double-Billed Snapdragon. Wish me luck.

A lot of things she says don't make sense, but that's one of the reasons why I love her. For example, I have no idea if the 'double-billed snapdragon' exists, but she's so certain that it does and that someday, she'll find it, that I can't help but believe that right along with her. Without saying anything, she makes me do things I'd never normally do.

After the shower, I step out and open the medicine cabinet to get my shaving cream. Another pink Post-It.

Five o'clock shadow looks great on you.

This one is always on my can of shaving cream. I always put one on hers, saying something about her hairy legs, and we call it even.

I walk into the kitchen, not surprised to see the flurry of multicolored Post-Its adorning our counters and appliances. Today must be a pink day because most of the Post-Its are pink. Sometimes she color-codes the days, but usually she just bustles around, slapping them on whatever surfaces they'll stick to.

I peel the one off the carton of milk and sit at the table, reading the ones sticking to the surface of the table while drinking from the carton, even though the note specifically tells me not to. Whoops.

Don't forget your socks!

Wear an extra tie today.

Feed the cat. (We don't even have a cat.)

Finished my article on Long Horned Jungle cats. It was a hit!

Put your pants on left leg first and your shirt left arm first.

I made you a bologna and pickled mayonnaise sandwich for lunch.

I pull up each one carefully, reading them before pitching them into the rubbish bin. Now it's _my_ turn to write the notes. This is probably the best time of the day for me.

Have a nice nap. (On the bedroom door.)

Your legs are sexy hairy. (Shaving cream can.)

Don't eat too much, we're going out! (Refrigerator door.)

I'll be back at 5. (Bathroom mirror.)

Dream a little dream of me... (Her pillow.)

Put this dress on feet first. (Her new black satin dress)

After spreading the notes around the flat, I pull my shirt and pants on (left side first), grab an extra tie and my work robes before scribbling another one and putting it on the counter.

MARRY ME!


	2. Luna

"Ah, good morrow to ye Luna!"

Luna waved enthusiastically at her neighbor Mrs. Acres, not noticing when the little old woman muttered, "Bloody batty," under her breath. Luna just kept walking up the stairs to her flat.

Now, most neighbors wouldn't consider you batty for something as normal as walking up the stairs, but Luna didn't do things the normal way. While most used the elevators, Luna walked up the stairs backwards, scribbling on notebooks or scraps of paper while mumbling to herself.

No one understood why, all they knew was that she didn't live alone.

Luna smiled to herself as she approached Neville. Not her boyfriend, Neville Longbottom, but the step she had dubbed Neville after he had spilled paint from her old paint set all over the step. The step above it was named Oggerd (after the double beaked Oggle Bird, which she had done a special on in last week's Quibbler) and the one below it was named Luna, after herself of course. In fact, every step had a name and she greeted each one as she came to it. Being as there were 196 steps to her flat, she said 392 hellos and goodbyes every day.

She reached Alphie, the last step before her floor, and turned around to skip down the hall. Her platform sandals slapping the concrete as she went and her loud, long, Christmas themed red and green skirt hopping around her ankles cheerfully. It didn't matter that it was in the middle of June or that the heat should have stopped her from wearing an orange turtleneck. She didn't like doing things normally, or even dressing normally, it just wasn't something she did. No one really understood her, except Neville.

She took out the key to her flat. The key chains jingled happily as she pushed them into the lock and turned them quickly.

The room she entered was flurried with the Post-It notes she loved so much. Every day, she'd write Neville millions of those things and every night she came home to a million more. Speaking of Neville…

Since he worked nights, he should be passed out on the couch or something, she thought, dropping her bag and watching as marbles rolled out. She always kept a spare set in her bag, just in case she ever needed them. She scrambled to pick them up, grabbing a package of Post Its before standing back up and walking towards her bedroom.

Have a nice nap.

She carefully peeled the Post-It off the door and held it to her heart before opening the door and stepping in.

She pulled her huge orange turtleneck off and tossed it in the general direction of the closet along with her shoes. She slipped on her cow slippers and a dressing gown while walking into the bathroom, where she found another Post-It waiting on the mirror.

I'll be back at 5.

AM, which means I have to find him.

She opened the shower door and pulled her toothbrush down from the rack hanging on the shower nozzle. The note she'd left that evening was gone, but there was one from him on her shaving cream can. She didn't have to read it to know what it said. She scribbled a quick note to him and slapped it on his can of shaving cream and smiled. She brushed her teeth with the green toothbrush, tomorrow it would be a pink day and she would have to use the pink mouthwash too.

When she finished freshening up, she ran out and plopped onto the bed. As she combed her fingers through her hair, another Post-It fell out of her hair.

Dream a little dream of me…

She smiled and laid back on her pillow, rereading the note. She may have been a little loony, but underneath she was just like every other girl. She loved getting these little notes, no matter how frivolous or short.

After a moment or two of basking in the happiness that accompanied the notes, she padded across the carpet towards the kitchen. Post-Its were everywhere, the perky colors sharply contrasting the dark countertops. The only room Neville had any say about before Luna went paint happy was the kitchen, since that was the room he kept all his plants in. Luna, despite the fact the room was completely predictable (one thing she strived not to be), loved it. She would take crayons and draw on the walls to make it feel more homey, and Neville never objected. Sometimes he even helped her.

She hoisted herself up and sat on the counter next to Jill, the coffee maker. Everything in the flat had a name. Just because the kitchen was Neville's room didn't mean she couldn't name all the appliances or draw on the walls.

She peeled the Post-It off Keya, the refrigerator, and smiled. She slid across the grey linoleum floor and ran into the bedroom closet, looking for a dress. She found a note on the new dress she'd bought, but she wanted to wear something else. After retrieving her bag, she rummaged around in it until she found what she wanted.

It was a pale green, beaded and fringed, knee length dress. The mesh petticoat was a lighter shade of green that fluffed out as it continued to her ankles. She stripped out of her clothes and pulled the dress on (feet first of course) and stuck her left arm through the beaded strap first (since it was a left side day) and slipped on a pair of old sneakers. She didn't care that they clashed with the outfit, and she was sure Neville wouldn't either.

The beads made soft clicking sounds as she moved back into the kitchen to retrieve her pad of Post-Its. A pink flash caught her eye and as she moved towards it, she realized it was yet another Post-It note from Neville.

MARRY ME!

She blinked several times before turning around and taking a deep breath. When she turned around again, the note was still there. She carefully peeled it off and reread it until she couldn't see the writing clearly anymore.

She walked to the sunroom, which was on the other side of the kitchen and jumped when she saw him sprawled out on the couch. His tie was loosened and he had a nice, black set of dress robes on over a Muggle tuxedo. His hair was tousled, suggesting he'd had a rough shift and he was snoring lightly.

An idea overtook her. She scribbled her response on a yellow sticky, peeled it off and stuck it on his forehead, watching as he stirred lightly. When she was satisfied with her answer (honestly! She was never so sure of anything in her entire life), she laid down and snuggled up next to him; falling asleep instantly.

Yes.


	3. Name That Bubble

**__**

The final installment of my Post Its _story. Thanks to GingerGurl for being the best (and most patient) beta anyone could ask for._

Neville awoke to the sound of soft breathing, and for a moment, he thought he was in bed. After the sleepiness had dwindled, however, he felt the hardness of the couch's frame beneath him and that's when he realized there was something on top of him.

Blowing a few strands of blonde hair out of his face, he managed to lift his head and see his girlfriend lying on top of him, her long, blonde hair cascading over both of them. He smiled as she wrinkled her nose in her sleep and let out an exasperated sigh. He shook her gently, whispering her name.

Her pale blue eyes opened slowly, and as she raised her head, a smile spread across her face. "Good morning," she whispered, her hand coming up and smoothing his hair back. She ran her thumb over the sticky part of the Post It, ensuring it would stay on his forehead just a bit longer. He didn't seem to notice it though, but she knew he would eventually.

He moved his arm just enough to take a glance at his watch. "It's half past ten at night, love," he told her, his arm snaking around her waist. "It's a little too early for a 'good morning.'"

She giggled, rolling off him and standing. He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck gingerly. "We missed our dinner reservation," he informed her, grimacing as his neck cracked.

Luna stood behind him and began to rub the back of his neck gently. He let his head drop forward and she continued. "Maybe Keya has something," she told him, continuing to rub his neck.

"Who's Keya?" he asked, knowing it was either the pantry or the fridge. Her insistence on naming all the kitchen appliances drove him up a wall because every time she wanted to use them, she called them by their names. He could never figure out what (or in this case, whom) she was talking about.

"The refrigerator," she reminded him, placing a kiss on the back of his neck before leaving to go into the kitchen. "I'm going to change!" she called to him, walking into the bedroom.

She smiled to herself, thinking about the Post It still stuck to her future fiancé's forehead. It was cute, she thought, carefully shrugging the dress off and hanging it on a hanger. She pulled a worn pair of trousers on before an old t shirt that was three sizes too big. She swept her hair up, sticking a pencil through it and grinning at her reflection. If he hadn't noticed it by the time they went to bed, she'd tell him face to face.

Meanwhile, Neville was frantically searching the kitchen for his last Post It. The thought she hadn't seen it slipped through his mind, but the thought currently screaming at him was that she'd tossed it in the rubbish bin the minute she saw it. _Why would she want to marry you in the first place? _He ran his hands through his already tousled hair, not noticing the yellow sticky that had become a prisoner in his ruffled brown locks. He sighed and leaned his head against the cabinets. _What were you thinking?_

Halfway through his pity party, Luna padded back into the kitchen, a box of crayons in one hand and a tub of bubbles in the other. "Are you really hungry?" she asked, setting the items on the counter.

"No," Neville moaned, picking his head up. "Not really."

Luna smiled and took his hand, noticing the misplaced Post It in his hair. _It took him this long to propose, _she thought, smiling at him. _He can wait it out a little longer._

Picking up the crayons and bubbles, she led him to the sitting room. Placing her things on the coffee table, she sat on the floor, pulling him down with her. He plopped on the ground, looking over at her, his heart breaking. _She won't say yes…_

Luna turned to the wall, leaning against the back of the settee, and began drawing on the wall. Neville watched miserably.

Luna drew a house, complete with trees, flowers and clouds. Taking his hand in hers and pushing a crayon into it, she made him draw a car and a swing set. Soon, he was drawing other things, a huge garden and a conservatory, by himself and she set out to draw the family.

Luna's artistic abilities were beyond belief. While Neville could barely draw stick figures, Luna could draw anything and could make it look so realistic. Neville loved watching her draw, which was why he let her draw on the kitchen walls, even though the kitchen was the only room he had any say in the paint colors. He stopped drawing his little pond in the front yard to watch as she began to draw people.

She bit the corner of her lower lip in concentration as her elegant fingers gripped the crayon. With small, graceful strokes, she began to draw a person. As she developed the person, Neville realized it was supposed to be herself. She caught the essence of her facial features perfectly, giving the woman she was drawing a dreamy, dazed expression.

Neville watched as her hand moved gently over the wall, the crayon seeming to barely skim the surface of the wall. With his eyes, he traced the curve of her wrist, up her forearm and to her shoulder. Her skin was dusted with the faintest of freckles, so small they were practically invisible. Since her hair was pulled up, he could see her slender neck, which had one freckle, just below her earlobe. It was covered, however, but her radish earring, which dangled so low it almost brushed her shoulder.

He stared at the earring for so long, he didn't realize she had finished her drawing and was now turning her head to look at him.

When her eyes met his, she smiled at the almost hypnotized gaze he had been staring at her with. She nodded her head in the direction of her finished masterpiece, and she watched as he tore his eyes away from her to look.

He recognized her immediately; she was dressed in a blue fairy costume complete with wings and she was holding- _Oh Merlin…_ She was holding a little fair-haired baby wrapped in a green blanket. Next to her, stood a brown haired man with a rose in his hand, watching her and the baby.

He looked from her to the drawing, confused. He was fairly certain that was him on the wall, but he didn't know what that was supposed to mean. Maybe this was her way of saying yes…

While he was thinking, Luna reached up, carefully taking the yellow sticky from his hair. He watched absentmindedly as she gently stuck it to the wall under the drawing of him.

The word on the Post It didn't sink in right away, but after staring at it for a few moments, the letters ran together. He adverted his gaze to her and felt her hand on top of his. It was as if a bolt of lightening struck him.

She said yes!

Almost hesitantly, he leaned in and kissed her.

XxX

Neville watched as Luna reached over him to the bedside stand and took hold of the jar of bubbles. She lay back down, this time on her back, resting her head on his chest. Twirling the bubble wand in the solution, she blew a bubble above them and smiled. "That's Celeste," she told him, watching as the bubble drifted lazily to the sheets. She blew another. "That one is Georgia."

She blew another, but before she could name it, Neville cut in. "That one's named Herbert." She giggled, blowing another. "And that one is Bertha."

"We aren't naming one of our children Bertha!" she told him, laughing. She blew another and sighed. "Chloe."

"Nicholas."

"Frankie."

"Lucas."

"Neville Junior."

"No, I'm not cursing my children by naming one of them after me," he laughed, watching as the bubble drifted towards his face and landed on his forehead.

"Really? I think he likes the name…"

"No."

Luna giggled, turning so she was lying on her side and looked up at him. "I think Neville is a nice name. I know a man named Neville."

"Really?"

She nodded, trailing her fingers up his chest. "He's the most wonderful man in the world, and I love him more than anything."

Neville tangled his fingers in her hair, running his other hand up her arm lovingly. "I think Neville might have a surprise for you," he admitted, tracing circles on the palm of her hand with the pad of his thumb. "He bought it today, even though he never thought you would accept his proposal."

"Why?"

"Because Neville thinks you're way too pretty and perfect to ever want to be with someone like him. But he's got news for you, once you're in," his hands slid under the sheets and tickled the sides of her stomach mercilessly. "You're never getting out!"

She laughed, attempting to wiggle away from his fingers. "I give! I give!" she giggled, realizing her resistance was futile. "Besides," she gasped, trying to regain her breath. "I'd never want to get out."

Neville grinned at her before reaching over and rummaging through his bedside drawer. Luna readjusted herself so she was lying next to him, and watched his back in curiosity. He handed her a black box, and turned on his side to watch her face.

She looked at him before flicking it open. Tucked neatly inside white velvet sat a ring with diamonds outlining the shape of a heart. Their initials, N and L, were entwined on a silver plaque in the centre of the diamonds. She watched as he took the ring out and slipped it on her left hand. Kissing her finger, he whispered, "Mine."

When their eyes met again, tears rimmed hers. "Yours," she whispered, kissing him softly. "Forever and ever."


End file.
